


Octopode in the Night

by killerweasel



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night of drinking, john wakes up to discover someone in his bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Octopode in the Night

Title: Octopode in the Night  
Fandom: _Sherlock_  
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes  
Word Count: 356  
Rating: PG  
A/N: AU after _The Great Game_

 

John muttered something under his breath about ‘damn octopode’ as the grip on his legs and chest slowly began to tighten. It wasn’t until he felt warm breath on his neck that his eyes popped open. Someone was in his bed. When did that happen? Maybe it was after the four beers too many in the pub last night. Some old friends from his army days had been in town and there was no way he was going to let them outdrink him. He couldn’t remember bringing someone home with him, but most of last night was a blur.

He tilted his head a little, being careful not to disturb the mystery person, to get a better look. What he saw made the corners of his mouth turn up. Sherlock was wrapped around him like a snake on a branch. He looked so peaceful John didn’t want to wake him. Besides, Sherlock had been awake for the past four days, unable to sleep due to a rather tricky case. If the consulting detective was finally asleep, he must have reached some conclusion.

That still didn’t explain why Sherlock was in John’s bed. It certainly wasn’t because the room was closer; Sherlock would have had to walk by his own room to get to John’s. Maybe Sherlock’s bed wasn’t fit for someone to sleep in. John frowned. He couldn’t remember Sherlock ever sleeping in his own room. Sherlock usually slept on the couch. Did he even have a bed in his room?

A whimper passed through Sherlock’s lips. It sounded like the beginning of a nightmare. John slowly shifted his arm until he could brush his knuckles along Sherlock’s cheek. He felt Sherlock freeze for a moment before relaxing with a sigh. John continued the motion until the grip around his body began to loosen. Now he didn’t feel like he was slowly being strangled.

John tried to stay awake as long as possible because he knew seeing Sherlock so calm and peaceful was about as rare as spotting a unicorn prancing down the street. Eventually, he lost the battle. Sleep overtook him and he drifted off.


End file.
